Unspoken
by Lillie Langtry
Summary: Lillie Langtry and Julian Luna have a relationship that spans over a hundred years. Recent events have driven them apart, but the past will not so easily be buried. A Lillie and Julian story, with more chapters on the way. Not a fic for Caitlin fans.
1. Lillie

I hadn't been here in months. I know that would probably come as a surprise considering the previous nature of the relationship I had with the owner of the house. All right, house is an understatement, a derogatory term, if that, when it comes to this description. Anyway, all that matters right now is that I'm walking up the front steps and having the door held open for me by a waiting ghoul who shows no surprise at seeing me. Maybe it's because I was so familiar here before that seeing me will never be strange.

Or maybe he just doesn't care either way.

I'll go with the latter.

It's quiet downstairs, and as I slide out of my coat I find I'm listening with finely tuned senses for any other sounds. Of course I don't hear a thing, so why am I surprised? What did I expect, after all? But even as I ask myself that ridiculous question I already have the answer. I expected strewn clothing trailing up the staircase and littering the railings, coming to a halt at a hastily slammed pair of mahogany doors, punctuated by muffled sounds that could not be mistaken for anything but what they are.

But, I chided myself, just because they aren't here doesn't mean they aren't somewhere else. Her place, I thought, yes, that must be it.

Of course.

These thoughts kept me company as I went up the stairs, down the familiar hallways, and came to a sudden halt outside a pair of doors. Yes, those same damned doors. Mahogany, and closed. For a long moment I listened for any sound of movement, listened with the finely tuned senses I'd been given, until I realized there was none. No one was in that room.

_No one at all .._

I must be a masochist. Either a masochist or completely insane. Only a masochist would open the doors to the bedroom of their former lover, and only a complete lunatic would actually walk into that room.

Correction. I was both.

The room was surprisingly just as I remembered it. No, I shouldn't be surprised by that, because he never wanted to take the time to change anything around. He had always liked things just the way they were, because that was the way he had planned for them to be. But that didn't mean he wasn't spontaneous. No, he had his spontaneous side, and plenty of spontaneous moments. Like at the Haven ..

_Bad idea. _

I slapped myself mentally from that train of thought and focused on what I could see. Everything was in its perfect place, as though it had been sculpted and molded there, and as I trailed slowly around the perimeter of the room I found for the first time I was afraid to touch anything. Not so much afraid, but wary. And even wary was an understatement. I didn't think he'd notice I'd been in here at all, so perhaps there was another reason. Another reason I wasn't admitting even to myself.

_Because she's been in here._

Yes.

That was exactly the reason. I thought that if I dared to touch anything I'd know she'd touched it as well. That she'd been here after I had left - _how soon after? _- that she had touched something - _anything? everything? _- in here, and ..

Looking back, I don't know how it happened or why I did it. I'll hold the masochistic lunatic within me accountable for everything that happened, because otherwise I'd have to try and come up with a plausible explanation as to why I had jerked the doors to the wardrobe open and was now scrutinizing the contents. What was I looking for anyway? Love letters? Hotel receipts? I felt like a wife who knew her spouse was having an affair and only needed the proof to confront it.

_But you were never a wife to him,_ the nasty little voice in my head chided. _You were never anything to him at all, were you? _That voice really needed to learn when to be quiet. I didn't want to listen to it, but it wouldn't stop talking.

_Never .. anything .. at .._

Oh, be quiet!

I slammed the wardrobe closed with that thought, pressing a hand to my forehead as though I were trying to keep my mind together. It wasn't doing much good. When I opened my eyes I was still in the same place, and my thoughts were still spiraling down the same track.

I was really starting to hate this.

But there was one more thing I had to do. One more place I had to look, to check. And until I did it, I'd never be able to stop thinking about it.

The bed was perfectly made as always, with the covers smooth and the pillows poised delicately. How many nights, how many times, had I seen it otherwise? How many nights had we climbed those same stairs together, hand in hand or arm in arm - or lips against lips, at that - and made our way to this very room, to fall together into this same bed? Sometimes it had been quick, punctuated by frantic kisses and rough touches ..

_The doors slammed closed with the pressure of my back against them, and my legs locked around his waist as he lifted me higher, forcing me up against the wall further. His lips were in my neck, burying there, which kept mine from being able to reach his, but I compensated for this by quickly unfastening the buttons of his shirt. His jacket and tie had been lost somewhere between the front door and now, as had my heels. I felt the chill of the wall press against my bare back - he had made short work of my dress, which was now on the floor as well - but his hands remedied that quickly, smoothing in harsh, quick touches that weren't meant to be soothing. I didn't care._

_My hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders and down as I raked my nails along the muscles of his back. He growled in response against my neck and I felt the twin brush of teeth - not quite enough to break the flesh, but enough to get a reaction - and I hissed a pleased reply. _

_And then we were moving again, moving at his direction as he half carried, half threw me onto the bed. I landed lightly against the covers, my head on the pillows - he was always careful of that - and he landed nearly atop me, catching himself on his forearms as he hovered above me._

_For a moment I saw him, saw the dark, burning want - need - in his eyes, saw all the masculine perfection that he was, and that moment was all I needed for clarification. Reaching up I threaded my fingers through his hair and drew his lips to mine for a kiss. His arms slid beneath me, his chest pressed against mine, and I shivered once with anticipation. I felt him growl again in response to this, a low, dark sound in his throat, and then his lips were at my neck again, this time skimming back to allow his teeth to sink into my neck, and all at once both he and his teeth were inside of me and I was lost in sensation - in heat and incoherent thoughts and pure sensation .._

Really bad idea. Really .. not a good idea.

My tongue was against my teeth now, a familiar sensation washing itself through my body, and I curled my hands into fists, letting the fingernails bite roughly into my palms. That feeling helped me to draw from my train of thought and back to the present moment.

There, you see? I told myself. You can do this, it isn't so bad. Just .. look.

So I looked.

I let my eyes slide down to the bed, smoothing over it with my gaze, a smile curving one corner of my lips at the sight of the pillows side by side. How many times had one gone unused at night? I'd preferred him, letting my head rest against his chest and myself in his arms, especially after a different encounter ..

_My eyes fell to a close and my body followed suit, gently lowering to rest against his. Strong arms wrapped around me immediately, cradling me against a muscular chest, and without opening my eyes I let my head rest against his shoulder, breathing an unnecessary sigh of contentment. His fingertips trailed little patterns along my back and the outline of my spine and I curled against him further, relaxing into the touch._

_Tonight had been different, I thought, very different than before. When I had come back he was nowhere in sight, and the scent had been what drew me upstairs. The faint scent of rose petals lingered up the stairs and through the hallway, leading me through the doors and into the bedroom now awash with the gentle glow of candles. A bottle of wine stood on a glass tray, two wine glasses beside it, and my nightgown was already laid on the bed, perfectly smoothed. _

_He was nowhere in sight, I thought dimly as I set down my purse and coat, and then arms encircled my waist from behind, drawing me back against a strong chest. Kisses nuzzled into the back of my neck, and for once I yielded completely, surrendering any trace of control I might have possessed. Normally I would fight him a bit, just enough to pique his interest, but tonight was different, and we both knew it. Something tonight was different, and that single thought had echoed through my mind as we kissed and he kissed me, showering my flesh in worshiping, praising kisses and making love to me in a way that made my senses reel._

_I thought back on all of this as I rested against him and could not suppress the smile that curved my lips. He lifted his head then, and I let my eyes meet his, reading the same expression from him._

"_That slight smile on your face," he murmured, and I allowed the smile to blossom into a full one, leaning up to silence him with a kiss. I didn't want to talk, not now, and wasn't surprised to find that neither did he .._

Oh, damn it, stop already!

I was out of my mind, I thought, as I lowered myself to sit on the edge of the bed. Completely and utterly out of my mind. My vision was blurring and something inside me felt as though it were twisting itself into knots, but I had come this far and could not stop now. My fingers smoothed along the cover as I lowered myself down, letting my eyes close as though in preparation for what I would find. I could smell the scent of anyone - kindred or kine - and I would know if .. if she ..

Oh.

Not her, but him. His scent, as clearly as if he had just been in the bed. He hadn't, of course - that would have been impossible, right? - but his scent all the same, and for a long, aching moment I clenched my eyes closed and did nothing but revel in it. He smelled of strength - of strength and power and a distinct cologne he only wore lightly that complemented his natural scent so well. Another wave of memories surged over me and I felt the burning sensation rise up behind my closed eyelids.

No! Do not cry! I screamed inwardly to myself as I drew up again. What was this? What was I doing, what was I letting myself do? Me, who never shed a tear for anyone else to see in life, let alone now? But it was too hard now to keep composed - there were too many memories trying to resurface, and I knew dimly that I had to do what I needed to do and get out of here before I lost control completely.

I leaned down toward the other pillow, shutting my eyes again and opening my senses as much as they could be. Whoever had shared his bed .. whoever it had been, whoever it was, I would know. I knew there would be no trace of Alexandra since I myself had seen to the removal of that mattress and those sheets long ago, but I was still prepared for what I would find. Bracing myself once more, I allowed myself to smell.

And I smelled perfume.

Perfume mingled with a scent that was familiar, but not one I had smelled and accompanied with the mental vision of tearing its owner apart by her throat. This was not the scent I had smelled on her when we first met, nor when we had sipped wine both at the Haven and her home. She smelled of sandalwood and innocence, and this scent was not hers. It took me a moment to distinguish the owner of the scent, and once I knew the realization hit me so harshly I fell back to my forearms on the bed.

It was mine.

I knew it more clearly than I had known anything else before. The perfume was the only scent I had worn for years - more years than I could recall now - and I never wore anything but that. And when I eventually ran out I would search all over the world if needed to find that same exact perfume because my tastes were so particular.

But why .. ?

I felt my mind reel for the countless numbered time since I'd come in here, and then I was moving, pushing myself off the bed and toward the door. I felt my body collide with a chair and clutched onto the back to steady myself. Blindly I ran down the hall, the doors slamming closed behind me, and I threw myself into one of the other bedrooms - a spare that no one used, of course - and let that door slam closed behind me as well.

Pressing my back against the door I willed myself back into calm, telling myself that I had been ridiculous, that I had missed something, that I was wrong .. because of course I had been wrong.

Certainly someone had been in that bed with him besides me .. ?

_But it doesn't matter anyway, _the voice purred in the back of my mind, _because even though she may have never been in his bed, you know for certain he's been in hers._

I felt that familiar blinding ache of pain again and then heard the sound of crashing glass. Looking down I saw my hand was bleeding from the palm and flower petals were plastered to my skin. Somehow I had broken a vase, and now the fragments of it and the flowers were scattered at my feet and on the wall of the room.

Idiot, I chided myself, searching for something to clean up the mess with, and realized I was holding something soft in my uninjured hand. Something caught in my throat as I looked at it, shutting my eyes again.

His shirt. Or rather, one of his shirts. It must have been on the back of the chair in his room. My eyes stayed closed as I lifted the shirt to my face, again inhaling his familiar scent. The burning behind my eyes surged forward again, and this time I didn't care enough to force it back. Sinking down onto the bed I drew my legs up beside me and let my body lay down, curling the shirt into my arms. I was just too exhausted to do anything else.

He'd never even know I'd been here, I thought dimly as my eyes began to close. He'd never even know ..


	2. Julian

I had known she wouldn't be here tonight. I'd called ahead to make sure of that. Brianna had been crisp and curt in her response, saying that 'Miss Langtry has a prior engagement and will not be at the club tonight.' Her voice had dripped icicles, and had I not been in a state of disquiet I would have sharply retorted that she should mind her tongue, especially when speaking to her Prince. But that could wait until later.

It would have to wait. Because there was something I had to do tonight, something I could only do when I knew she wouldn't be there. When she wouldn't be there and I had no chance of her return. If she had made it known to Brianna she would be away from the club for the night, then this was the ideal chance.

The car had been waiting when I left the mansion, the door held open. I gave the destination and it took little to no time to get there. I was scarcely conscious of the ride, though, and murmured my thanks as I slid through the open door, walking through the club's entrance and down the inside staircase.

As always the Haven was crowded. I couldn't remember a time when it hadn't been. She had been proud of the club when it opened, and so rarely took time away from it. The first night she had watched the patrons from the corner booth, a glass of wine before her and the faintest smile on her lips. And I had been with her ..

"_You're pleased," I said, my eyes on the crowds of people, both kindred and kine alike, that were now milling about the elegantly furnished club. Some had settled at the bar counter and were sipping cocktails, some had grouped off into twos or threes and taken a seat in one of the booths, and others had made their way to the dance floor, moving in rhythm to a slow, melodic rhythm. _

_I felt her smile before I heard her response. "It certainly brought quite the turnout, especially for its first night. I wonder why that might be?" Her tone was contemplative, but as her dark eyes flickered over my profile, I knew she was aware of the precise reason. Just as I was familiar with her and her actions, she was well acquainted with mine._

"_They're only seeing half of it, though," she continued, and I turned to look at her calmly, though my curiosity was piqued. Her eyes were not on me but on a long, wide staircase I hadn't given much mind to before. Delicately it curved upwards, but where it led could not be seen from where we were. A subtle smile played on her lips, and then she turned to face me and I could see the dark gleam in her eyes. I knew that look far too well, knew the slight lift of her chin and the elegant curve of her white throat, and just as I knew those things I knew that she would, any moment .._

_Smoothly she slid from the booth to stand, turning to face me as I did the same with inherent composure and calm. But she didn't wait to take my arm, instead began walking across the room, towards that staircase. _

_I followed her for only a moment, soon falling in step beside her, not speaking as we climbed the stairs. She was calm, her step light with a grace that could come from no amount of practice, but once we were out of the sight of the other patrons of the club, I sensed the definite change that overcame her. The pulsing sway of her hips, slight as it was, became faintly more defined, the tilt of her head displaying the perfect curve of her neck, and by the time she unlocked the door at the top of the stairs the dark glimmer in her eyes was unmistakable. A faint smile played on her lips as she pushed open the door, motioning for me to step in first. _

_To call the room an office would be an understatement. It was more luxurious than most apartments, at that. The decor reflected her exquisite taste in design, with a polished dining table and chairs, plush armchairs, a chaise lounge, and a mahogany desk accentuated only by a telephone and antique lamp. Elegant curtains hung along one wall, and I couldn't hide my approval, and turned to face her after I heard the door behind me click to a close. A slight smile curved her lips and as I turned back to survey the room once more I felt her arms slide around me, beneath my arms from behind. _

"_You approve," she murmured, lips against my ear as her chin rested on my shoulder. "I do," I replied without turning my head, though now acutely conscious of her behind me. Not just her presence, but her, the smell of Versace perfume and her own distinct scent and the feel of manicured nails as they skimmed along my shoulders lightly. Her skin was flawless, smooth as her cheek brushed mine, and sensation shot through me before I knew it was coming. _

"_You still haven't seen it all," she said, and this time the tremor in her voice was impossible to deny. I turned my head then, letting my eyes meet hers, and read the same dark, burning look in her eyes I had anticipated. I didn't move, but she took initiative, never letting her eyes break from mine as she moved to stand in front of me. The brush of her hand slid down my arm, and once our fingers were lightly entwined she began leading me across the room, towards the curtains I had noticed earlier. She was moving backwards but knew precisely where she was going, as there was no uncertainty in her step._

_When she pulled back the curtains and led me through them I realized they had not been just another tasteful decorative choice, but rather a door in themselves. They led to another room, even more tastefully decorated than the first. Crimson silk was draped delicately over the walls, the carpet soft and lush, and the faint scent of her perfume hung in the air. An elegant dressing table stood in the corner, a candelabra accenting either side with a spotless, oval mirror between them both. And on the room's other side was the bed, boasting a mahogany headboard and satin sheets in the same shades as the room's decor._

_I felt her fingernails graze up my spine and her arm encircle my waist as she moved to stand in front of me again, and when our eyes met I knew she had intended this all along. My hands slid up to rest on her hips, and when our lips met in a searing kiss I clutched her in my arms tightly, feeling how small she was .._

There wasn't time for this sort of nostalgia, I told myself sharply. But it was hard to not think back on the past when I was in that very room now. It hadn't taken much to get one of the workers with a master set of keys to unlock the door, and now inside the room that was hers, it was impossible to not think of her.

Her things were everywhere, her signature style and touch - and scent - overpowering in this room, assaulting me from every direction. I forced myself to move quickly through the first room and through the curtains, into her bedroom.

That, however, had been a mistake.

If her presence had been overpowering in the first room it was smothering in the bedroom. Her perfume standing on the dresser where she had left it - _who was she wearing it for? _- the empty hanger on the outside of the wardrobe door - _which dress had she worn? _- so many signs of her presence, each confirming more than the first that she had in fact gone out for the night.

I felt a roaring heat rush through my entire being, hands curling into tight fists with that realization. She was mine, mine and no one else's. She was never to share anyone's bed but mine! Something was nagging at the back of my consciousness, telling me that there was a reason for all of this, but I shoved that feeling out and away as quickly as it had come. I didn't care. The only thing I was really finding that I cared about now was finding her, her and whoever she was with.

She wouldn't be with them for long.

Straightening my coat I left the room, walking briskly past the worker that had let me in to the upstairs office. A quick turn of my head made their eyes lock with mine, and then they swayed slightly to lean against the wall. I turned back to the stairs, knowing that there would be no memory of my time here to that worker, and continued down the stairs and out the front doors again.

Wherever she was, I would find her.


	3. Conclusion

When I woke up, I didn't know how much time had passed. There were no windows in my room and no audible footsteps outside in the hall. My back arched with the rhythm of a stretch, and I moved onto my back to stare upwards at the swirling patterns of the ceiling's imperfections.

"I'm out of my mind," I murmured to my shadow. "This would have been beyond obsession in a mortal life." My shadow seemed to nod in mocking, and I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to see it anymore. I hated to be mocked, even at times when it might be something I deserved.

I knew, though, I couldn't stay here all night. Someone would figure something out, and I didn't want to be found here with things the way they were. It was going to be strange enough if anyone saw me here. Then again, I could always use the excuse of picking up some of my things.

_That's right_, that damned voice in my head purred, _you're picking up some of your things. Because it isn't as though he really wants you here anymore._

I was really starting to hate that voice.

Drawing myself upright I crossed the room to the mirror, investing precious moments in adjusting the slightly rumpled skirt of my dress and twisting wayward strands of hair back to their proper places. _No tears,_ I thought to myself, and that gave a firm feeling of satisfaction. It was better to feel this way than the way I'd felt before. Better to feel closed off and capable than open and weakened.

I hated weakness. As much as I hated that voice.

Maybe more.

In the mirror I could see his shirt, still curled on itself where I had left it on the bed. It hadn't been a good idea to take that. I realized that now. All I was doing was inflicting more emotional and mental suffering on myself. More suffering that wasn't going to do any good. The logical thing to do in this case, I realized, was to move on. To get over it.

As though I had a choice. Last I recalled, I wasn't getting any choice in this whatsoever. It wasn't as though he'd asked me what I wanted.

_You brought this on yourself, you know,_ the voice cooed again. _You called the private investigator, you arranged to have the photos taken, and you're the reason.._

Damn, I really hated that voice. But I was getting too tired to fight with it. By this point, it was so much easier to just listen and endure it, listen with the hope that maybe the logic would be drilled into my mind. My mind that was completely unwilling to respond to –

_Knock, knock._

_Oh, who the hell could that be? _I didn't let the thought escape my lips, instead taking that moment to move one wild glance around the room. Catching up his shirt I looked around once more, finally settling for hiding it in the drawer of my vanity. That was as unlikely a hiding place as any.

But who was knocking? Who even knew I was here? I hadn't told anyone, and I hadn't seen anyone when I came in. _It could be_…but I crushed the thought to the back of my mind. Even that was too ridiculous a possibility to consider.

Shaking my head once at my own mentality I twisted the door handle, a faint bittersweet smile on my lips. I must have been completely…

Oh. _Oh._

I had to be seeing things. My mind was playing tricks on me. It was the only explanation for what I was seeing before my eyes. Because it couldn't be…

"..Julian..?"


	4. Confrontation

Usually the travel time between the Haven and the mansion is about fifteen minutes on a good night. That even allows for a minimal amount of traffic when driving at the appropriate speed limit, a practice I always enforced.

Except, that is, for tonight. Tonight when the door of the car closed behind me, I leaned toward Billy in the front seat and gave instructions. Very specific instructions, at that.

Drive. Fast.

Billy was never one to disobey an order, especially a direct one from me. He had known his place since it was acquired. I didn't have to worry about disobedience, even when it came to matters such as these.

Tonight, I reached the mansion in six minutes. It was a feat I didn't expect to achieve again.

Not waiting for the door to be opened I slid from the car myself, taking the steps to the mansion's entrance two at a time. The door was held open but I didn't stop to nod a greeting, only paused in the hall to take one quick glance around.

"Sire?" Billy's voice came to me from the doorway, but I was past listening at that point. Not bothering to yet take off my coat I took the stairs two at a time again, closing the distance between my destination and me with the same certainty I had for years. I'd never once doubted what I'd find after ascending the steps and opening the door.

Not just a door. Her door.

I could feel a pulse I didn't need racing in my fingertips, the heat instantly warming the metal door handle. I wanted to wrench the door open so it would slam, see the satisfying, shocked expression on her face, and…

_Dammit!_

Locked. Could she not be in there? But why had I thought she would be? She'd clearly taken time to get herself ready for an evening…what sort of evening would she have prepared for here? It wasn't like her at all.

And yet I still knocked. I don't know why I did. It was some sort of last attempt for a cause I didn't completely understand. She wasn't going to be there, and there wasn't anything left to do but…

The door opened.

I wasn't prepared for that. But I was fortunate enough to have a calm expression by nature. Looking upset wasn't something I knew how to do.

So when the door opened and I found myself staring into the surprised expression I'd just concocted in my mind I was perfectly able to appear as calm as I would at any given moment. As though I were waiting for an appointment, watching out a window, or waiting for the updates on the stock market.

Yes, of course. Think about anything but…

_…Lillie._


	5. Jealousy

I froze. Normally, that isn't something I do. I have no trouble with emotions and confrontations; with speaking the very thing that's on my mind at the very moment I feel it. But I couldn't find anything to say. My voice wasn't the only thing that wasn't responding. For that first, terrifying moment I couldn't think. No amount of strength or power, of age or blood, was assisting me now.

I couldn't read his eyes, either. The same calm, collected expression he always possessed was on his face. It was as though nothing was the matter…either that, or he simply didn't care.

That snapped me from my muted state. Perhaps it was anger that drew me from silence, but I didn't care to analyze the feeling. Stepping back from the threshold I lifted my chin, feeling my resolve return with a satisfying finality.

"Julian." His name passed from my lips coolly and without trembling, a task I was quite proud of. My confidence lifted further and my smile became more natural as I moved away from him. His expression didn't change as he watched me, and a long, silent moment passed between us. It was a moment I both despised and never wanted to see end.

He didn't say a word as he began to close the distance between us, stepping across the threshold and into my room. Rather than voicing an attempted protest I chose to move back and away, deliberately turning my back to him and facing the mirror over my vanity. _My hair really does need a bit more attention,_ I told myself, justifying my actions as I twisted stray tendrils into place, securing them with pins.

"You're going out?" He phrased it as a question, his voice coming from far closer than I expected. From a few feet behind me, at that. I didn't turn, though, and instead kept my eyes focused on my reflection.

"Why do you ask?" My tone was as detached as I could make it. He was asking questions for a reason, but it was a reason I hadn't figured out yet. What did it matter where I was going? But for some reason, he wasn't letting it go. Trying to figure out why was too much right now. I couldn't make sense of why he was here let alone what he wanted.

"Who?"

That was a question to turn around for, and when I did it took all my self-control not to step back. Because he was _right there_. Not a few feet away, but so close my arm brushed his chest when I turned. The contact sent a sharp sensation along my skin, and I flickered my eyes away from his face to keep him from seeing my reaction. It wasn't good to let him see what I was feeling. Especially when what I was feeling had to do with him. Weakness was the worst thing I could display right now.

"Why does it matter?" There, indifference. It was perfect. This performance would serve the purpose of re-defining why I had been one of the greatest actresses of my time. If I could get through this, I could easily go back to the stage without a second thought. There. The motivation of theatre was enough to clear the fog from my mind and the curve of my lips became more natural as I regarded his impersonal expression.

"Who." Now there was no question in the word, and a quiet intensity began to grow within his eyes. Dimly, I knew there was a logical explanation for this but it was so ludicrous to my mind that I simply pushed it away without a second thought.

Because Julian Luna didn't get jealous. Especially of whoever came to my bed. Maybe that could have happened in times before, when we were lovers, but now…now he had made a decision about his existence and who was going to walk through it with him.

And it certainly wasn't me that he chose.

No…it wasn't me…

I felt the familiar cold knot of anger coil in my stomach, a sensation I shouldn't have any longer, yet one that refused to go away. My fingers curled, the nails making small, deep indentations on my palms as I fought considerably for calm once more. All of these actions were subtle, though, and I knew there was literally no way for him to know I was upset. Or hurting. Or anything, at that. No, to him right now I was nothing more than cold, dispassionate Lillie…walled up securely from prying eyes and thoughts. It was safest this way, and best.

Wasn't it?

Maybe it wasn't, because now I could feel his anger. I'd never felt that before, not directed at me. Not even when he had discovered I was responsible for the photographs had he been this enraged. Had I been human I would have recoiled, but nothing was going to force me to step back now.

"An artist." The lie came so easily from my lips it very nearly astonished me. "He's featured at one of the local galleries. I've been seeing him for almost a month." I wanted nothing more than to turn away, but my eyes stayed riveted on his face, awaiting the reaction I so desperately desired. _How does it feel?_ I thought, _how does it feel to know I'm not sitting here waiting for you to finish your little affair and come back? How does it feel to know I'm not hurting?_

At least the first part of that statement was true. Lying to yourself, my mother had said, was the worst thing a person could do. But I justified this by thinking that if I said it enough to myself that would make it come true. It was a pretty pathetic form of justification, but I could chide myself on that later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting through these next few minutes. If I could do that, I wouldn't have to worry any longer about what he'd think or what he might say. Because he'd be so angry with me he'd never walk through that door again.

That wasn't what I wanted, and I knew it. But this was another good time to lie to myself.

So I did.

"His name is Carson," I continued, not waiting for his response. Now that I'd begun this deception it seemed impossible to keep myself quiet. I wanted to hurt him, to hurt him far worse than I had before with the private detective and photos. Because he had hurt me in ways he couldn't comprehend. Ways he didn't care to comprehend, at that. He'd been conducting his own liaison with that damned blonde reporter without any regard for how it made me feel…so why shouldn't I enjoy this? Why shouldn't I…

"You are not going to see him again."

The decisive, firm tremor of his voice stopped my train of thought, and I looked to his face again with a look of pure surprise. I couldn't have heard him right. It was impossible to think that now of all times, he'd be commanding me. He was my Prince, of course, but certainly…certainly no man believed he could control me? Me, of all women? Surely he didn't think…

The look on his face told me otherwise. Because that was exactly what he was thinking. The calm, collected expression in his eyes, the one designed to intimidate anyone into giving him exactly what he was asking for, was present on those exquisitely sculpted features, and I fought against the scoff that wanted to escape my lips. I wanted to laugh, to come back with a response that would wipe that expression from his face permanently.

He was so completely and utterly frustrating. Frustrating, impossible…and something else. Something else I wasn't willing to admit, let alone even think about.

Because that would be a very bad idea.

Because…I was remembering something else. Another time similar to this one, another time about three months ago…

_"If you hadn't been the one that sired him…" _

_Christ, he'd said that already! I turned away from the cold finality of his words, shutting my eyes against what I knew had to be done. Zane was out of control, I knew, and the breaches he'd made of the Masquerade were unforgivable…and yet the realization of what I had to do was causing an ache in my chest. An ache I hadn't felt since the last time I drew breath. Nostalgia, I told myself, because certainly there's no heart in my chest any longer. Not how it used to be._

_I could feel him behind me from a distance, his eyes fixated on my back, watching every movement I made. He knew me well enough to read my reaction from the simplest actions of body language, and he would know how I felt before I spoke a word._

_Not giving him that chance, I whirled to face him and allowed my anger to blaze through my eyes. Anger I hadn't known I was feeling until I let it rush through my veins with the scorching heat of fresh blood. His eyes flickered with a faint show of surprise but he still held his composure, and once again I hated him for it. _

_"How much of this is about the Masquerade, and how much of it is because it's Zane?" I let the accusation burst from my lips without bothering to consider how it sounded, taking the three steps across the room that would bring me only a few feet from him. It was late, the Haven long since closed, and we were the only ones in the club's interior. _

_I saw the anger flare in his face, the muscle in his jaw tightening as the indication I was on thin ice, but I didn't care. I didn't give a damn about what he was feeling. I was too focused on what he was doing to me, what I was feeling and what I was going to have to do. He wasn't giving me a choice, and I knew it. I knew that there was no way around Zane's death, and that I was going to have to execute it. My own anger was greater than his now, perhaps greater than anyone's had ever been, and I just didn't care what happened._

_"He broke the Masquerade," he said firmly, his eyes locking on mine as if daring me to step one more inch out of line. "You know the laws, Lillie. I cannot make exceptions to violators who put our existence in danger."_

_The laughter that burst from my lips was harsh, grating, and completely inappropriate, and I knew it. I didn't care, but I still knew it. "You cannot make exceptions? No, Julian," I said, my voice dropping to a harsh tremor I scarcely recognized, "it isn't that you cannot, it's that you will not. Not for Zane. And yet you continue to seduce the journalist, to conduct your own affair with no regard for the danger it places us in! Don't you see that? Or are you too blind to-"_

_His hands cut me off as they circled my upper arms roughly, jerking me against his chest with a roughness I'd all but forgotten. His touch was almost foreign now – how long had it been since the last time? – but my skin thrummed with a familiar sensation I shoved from my mind. I didn't want to feel anything now other than remorse and anger – and hate – but my body was refusing to comply with my wishes. Clenching my teeth I met his eyes with a harsh, challenging glare and found the same waiting for me. I didn't know in that moment if he was angry for my defiance or angry at the obvious truth in my words. It wasn't as though he had any way to deny it._

_"If you do not see to this Lillie," he said, his voice low and harsh, "then I will. You will leave me no choice." The look in his eyes was dark, dangerous, and for a brief instant I wondered if he wouldn't simply kill me as well._

_But instead…_

That was not something I needed to be remembering now. The clarity of that realization was enough to snap me back to the present – and my senses. Momentarily grateful I no longer blushed, I averted my eyes from him entirely. The conversation was accomplishing little – except irritating me – and I was more than ready to end it.

Evidently, he had other plans. I felt the quick warmth of his hands close over my shoulders and before I could respond I was turned to face him, pressed against his chest without any trace of former intimacy in his touch. His eyes were shades darker than I'd seen them before, but for the moment I wasn't disturbed by it. I was too caught up in being angry with him, angry at his audacity and his nerve, and at myself for not being able to simply twist away and not look back.

"He's an artist, Julian. And he's of no threat to the Masquerade. Why shouldn't I seek companionship?" I was pleased with the cool tone of my voice, and even more so with the indifferent expression that refused to go away. I didn't want it to go away; because the longer it remained the more likely he would be to believe it.

"You aren't going to see him again." The tone in his voice hadn't changed, and my irritation flared, as did my eyes. But his hands didn't move, only tightened on my shoulders that much more.

"And why is that?" I didn't care if I had already asked the question, it hadn't been answered and it was an answer I wanted. Because if he could take a lover, why couldn't I? Why couldn't I –

_Oh._

His lips were on mine before I could speak another syllable.

And for the moment, that was perfectly fine with me.


	6. Desire

I don't know what made me do it. Kissing her was the last thing I needed to be doing, but I did it anyway. One moment she was regarding me with cool, indifferent eyes and a dispassionate tone I wanted to rip from her throat, and the next my lips were against that same throat, caressing the slightly cool skin with parted lips.

She gave a satisfying shudder and instead of waiting for her to respond further I forced her to arch against me, my grasp tightening on her shoulders so she had no choice but to mold to my will. I felt a low hiss in her throat and growled once in response, burrowing my lips harshly into her skin, allowing my teeth to graze the surface.

A faint sound that in someone else would have been a gasp escaped from her lips and my hands slid to her hips, all but shoving her so her back pressed against the edge of her vanity. Her hands twisted free from my hold and I felt the familiar sensation of manicured nails raking up my back before settling to grasp my shoulders. It was so harsh…everything was harsh between us now. There was no trace of the former gentleness that occasionally transpired when we made love. This wasn't about love or emotion at all, but some fierce, unrestrained need that refused to be controlled. For so long I'd kept my distance from her, held to the anger she ignited in my veins, but as soon as we touched, everything faded into insignificance.

I felt her impatience, felt the movement of her hips as they pressed insistently against mine, and any sort of resistance my mind drew up was shoved away by that sensation alone. My hand slid up her back, finding the button at the nape of her neck, unfastening it with an expert twist that drew another low sound from her throat. Her hands were everywhere and then at the buttons on my shirt, my coat long since discarded onto the carpet.

Even while pulling the dress from her shoulders I could see she was beautiful, just as beautiful as she had been the last time. _No,_ a voice in my mind whispered, _not as beautiful. More._ But I'd never tell her that, even if my mouth were free to do so. I'd never let her know that, or any of the things I'd been thinking over the past few days. Death sounded more enticing than those confessions.

My lips parted, trailing along her collarbone and shoulders with a heat I'd only begun to feel, and I felt the satisfying arch of her spine, the slight heat of her skin against my chest. She'd only managed to unfasten half the buttons but her hesitation quickly disappeared, and I felt her fingers begin to move with a quick frenzy…

_Ring._

I froze, my lips against the hollow of her throat, and for a brief, fleeting instant I felt as though I were one of the hormonal teenagers I so often saw in the alleys of the city, being caught by his parents with a girl in his bed. She tensed, the heat in her skin flaring for another instant, and as the ringing sounded again, I knew that she was completely aware who was on the other end of that line.

After all, it was my phone ringing. Not hers.

But I didn't want to draw away. I did, of course, moving two steps back from her and allowing her to stand once again. She complied without a word, turning her back to me, and I didn't look at her as I reached down for my coat.

The phone was on its fourth ring when I drew it from the pocket, and a glance at the screen forced me to reality with the same feeling of being thrust into the burning sun.

Caitlin.

After closing my eyes for a brief instant I lifted them to glimpse her face. And even though she turned away before meeting my eyes I caught a glance of something in her expression I had never seen. I thought I'd known all her emotions after over a century in her company, but this one I'd never seen.

It was so foreign, so impossible to decipher, that I couldn't even draw up a name for it.

But as quickly as I saw it she turned away, fastening the button at the back of her neck, and my anger flared in my chest once more. I wanted to catch her by the shoulders again, shake her, and force her to…

_Force her to what?_ I asked myself. _What did you really think was going to happen here tonight? Did you really think she'd be waiting here, hands folded, for you to come back? _

Had I really thought that?

_Yes._

And that wasn't what she'd done. Something had changed in her, something had changed between us, and I didn't want to analyze it any more than I had already. Because I didn't like the conclusion I was reaching.

Caitlin. Caitlin was waiting. I needed to go to Caitlin.

I felt her eyes on me again, and I lifted my head to meet them. She didn't turn this time and I blatantly held her gaze for a long, frozen moment. We didn't say a word, and I didn't look away until the last possible moment.

I didn't look away until I walked out the door.


	7. Departure

I don't know why I was so surprised that he left. For him to stay would have meant something, and that wasn't the case anymore. That is, if it had ever been the case at all. But I didn't like the feeling that came over me when he walked out the door. A sweeping feeling of disgust, as though I'd been whirled back into the late nineteenth century, where men hid me away in their parlors while making love to their wives, then stealing away to take me to bed afterward. I hated that feeling. And it hadn't changed with any amount of time passing.

No, being the other woman wasn't something I enjoyed.

Not even to him.

When the door closed I allowed my eyes to do the same, running a hand up and over my eyes as though to smooth composure back to my face. It worked better than I'd expected, and even the uneasiness his touch had brought about faded into near insignificance as quickly as it had come.

Maybe I wasn't as bad about all of this as I'd feared I was.

Or maybe I was just lying to myself again.

It didn't matter, because now he was gone again. I couldn't even smell him in the room anymore…it was almost as though he'd never been there. But the memory of his touch bruised my skin and the taste of his lips tormented my own…so I knew that wasn't the case. No amount of wishing was going to change that.

I couldn't stay here anymore, and I realized that even more clearly when I reached for my purse. It was easiest to just leave, to leave and go and not come or look back. That was the only way I'd ever get past what I was feeling.

What was I feeling, though? I didn't even know that anymore. I was just too confused.

And I was talking to myself. Which, of course, was a very bad idea.

My purse made a welcome weight on my arm and I closed the door to my room firmly behind me. I didn't look back, because looking back indicated I might actually be coming back…and that wasn't something I'd be able to do anymore. Not after this. He had looked at me differently tonight, and all I had seen in his eyes was a primal desire for something he knew how to satiate elsewhere. Not for me, not for anyone in particular…just for the raw, simplistic thing we all craved, even when we didn't admit it.

I didn't look back at anything else in the mansion as I left. There was, after all, nothing to look back on.

Without a second thought, however, I did make use of one of the cars he kept in abundant supply in the garages outside. After all, I had to get to the Haven somehow, and what better way to be rid of me than through his own car service? I doubted he'd mind, but I hoped he would. It was a small fraction of what he deserved for the way he'd been making me feel.

When did I start blaming him for this? It was easier, I knew that, but when did I really start throwing all the blame onto the image of him I carried in my mind? _The first time he looked at her,_ the voice in my head purred, and for once I could agree with it. I hadn't swayed from him, not then, but now…now I couldn't sit by any longer. I was tired of watching him romance a mortal without looking back.

The Haven filled my vision as I stepped from the car, and I said goodnight to Billy as I walked up the stairs to the entrance. Brief, formal greetings were exchanged and I took a moment to speak a few words to Brianna, who caught me by the arm as I approached the stairs to my office.

"Miss Langtry, Mr. Luna called while you were out." Brianna's voice was hushed, that of a co-conspirator. My eyes widened fractionally with her words, but I gave no indication I was anything other than slightly surprised.

"Did he leave a message?" I asked, tilting my head to regard her.

Brianna shook her head. "No, he only asked if you were in tonight. I told him you were out for the evening…but I didn't say where you'd gone. I didn't think you'd want him to know."

_But he had known. Somehow, he'd known where to find me._

_Hadn't he?_

No. I forced the ridiculous, romantic notion from my mind even as I finished the thought. The idea of Julian somehow knowing where I'd be and then going there…that was the sort of silly prattle young mortal girls indulged in before falling asleep at night. It didn't happen, not in this world, and certainly not in the realm we created between us. Love and romance didn't exist, only sensuality and seduction. And those were actions as devoid of emotion as any other could be. We practiced the masquerades of love…didn't we?

_Did we?_

"Thank you, Brianna." I forced myself from my thoughts to say goodnight and ascend the stairs, tired of thinking the way I had been. I didn't like it any more then than I had before, and it certainly wasn't accomplishing anything.

Lost in these thoughts momentarily I rested my hand on the door to my office, pushing it open…

…and froze.

The door was unlocked.

Unlocked, when it hadn't been when I left.

Were I to have a heart, I knew it would have been accelerating at a frightening rate. I felt a familiar, heated sensation wash through my body and knew my eyes were likely an unusual shade of their normal color. Fingernails curling into my palm I took a moment to brace myself for whatever might be on the other side of the door. Because I knew I had locked it, the way I did every night, and the only reason for it to be unlocked was if someone else had forced entry inside.

Never mind that no one would ever get past the bouncers and staff to get up these stairs. Never mind that not even Brianna had the audacity to come in here without my personal invitation. Against all of those possible odds, _someone had been_. I had no idea who, but someone had.

Closing my eyes for a brief instant I braced myself before pushing the door open. My eyes moved swiftly about the room in search of anything that was out of place, anything that had been moved a fraction of an inch.

But there was nothing, and my mind refused to accept it. I didn't understand how my door could have been unlocked when I had locked it myself, and how nothing could be missing when the only purpose of breaking into someone's office would be to take something.

Still not understanding, I made a thorough search of my papers and receipts, continuing to find everything in proper order. Nothing was missing in the office, and a further search of my bedroom revealed the same. No matter how many times I checked the same things, they were still just as I left them. Even the door to my wardrobe stood a crack open as I'd left it, and my perfume bottle was still in its same precise place on my vanity.

Letting myself sink onto my bed I ran a hand through my hair in search of comprehension. It made no sense, but it was exactly as it appeared. And I knew I hadn't forgotten to lock the door, because it was simply something I'd never do.

At the moment, I was too exhausted to think on it any longer. If nothing was missing, then it was all right. I'd just change the locks in the morning and take the master key away from the guard to ensure this didn't happen again. There were more difficult tasks in the world, and I didn't need to make this one worse by obsessing over it.

Satisfied with my conclusion I removed my shoes and stripped away my dress, taking care to put everything in its proper place before pulling my nightgown over my head. The satin was a cool comfort against my skin and I relaxed into the sensation before removing the pins from my hair, allowing it to fall loose around my shoulders.

Clicking the light off at my bedside table I slid beneath the familiar covers, curling beneath them in a way reminiscent of my childhood. In the days of Jersey, as much as I was loath to admit it, things were more simplistic. At least now I could sleep, or rest, or simply push everything on my mind out of it and away.

It could all wait until tomorrow…


End file.
